


moon in hell

by mashaghost



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Gen, No Romance, at least, at least one headcanon present, the end of the world from the perspective of two outsiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashaghost/pseuds/mashaghost
Summary: The life of a mortal is often a hard one, especially where Universe Nine is involved. The life of a Supreme Kai, by contrast… is something best left to obscurity.





	moon in hell

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not totally sure about posting this to another site, tbh, as I'm not entirely sure how fans outside of my tiny corner of the internet feel about Roh, the Supreme Kai of Universe 9, ha. As with a lot of my non-TCR work, this came from a prompt on one of my roleplay blogs, so I apologize if my, uh. Extensive headcanons regarding certain characters creates something of a Continuity Lockout orz

It’s relatively rare that he’s accompanied only by Basil anywhere, the youngest Danger normally preferring to have the company of his brothers over any others (at least, as far as Roh has seen). Yet he had volunteered his services as guide and bodyguard eagerly and affably enough, and Roh thinks little in the way of questioning his motives. 

They arrive on the planet Tun with little fanfare, somewhere on the outskirts of a circular, spiral-like city. Basil glances to the tall, stone wall and its accompanying moat which surrounds the plainer, more subdued buildings on the outside of the circle and snorts.

“It looks like they went and sealed themselves off from everyone else. Must think they’re pretty special, uh?”

Roh doesn’t respond, at least immediately, instead starting for the heavy gate directly in their line of sight with his hands folded behind him.

“It’s not that,” he explains, relatively agreeably for his usual manner. “Planet Tun is home to large numbers of nocturnal animals, many of which survive solely on animal protein. Once the sun sets here, the outside of that border is not an altogether  _ fortunate  _ place to be.”

Basil hadn't expected that. “ _ Shit _ —”

Roh directs an amused half-smile up to him, and despite its lack of disapproval, Basil seems to shrink from the look anyway, rubbing the back of his head.

“...I-I mean… uh.  _ Crap _ .” Then, as they continue to walk and Roh shows no signs of berating him, he adds, “We’re gonna be long gone from here before sunset, though, right?”

“You’re one of the three  **strongest** individuals in Universe 9,” Roh reminds him coolly, offhandedly. “What are you so scared of?”

Basil looks out at the jagged mountains behind them. “I’m not  **scared** . I mean, but… that doesn’t mean I want to go up against some weird, hungry creatures that only come out at night, either.”

"Uh-huh."

"You didn't answer my question, anyway _! _ Are we gonna make it before sunset or what?"

Roh appears to think it over. "Mm, probably."

"Probably _?! _ What kinda weak-ass response is  _ probably _ ?"

"Doesn't Bergamo usually tell you to mind your profanity in my presence? You  **are** talking to a god, after all."

Basil bites his tongue, chastened, and slinks after Roh in sheepish defeat.

**& &&**

The circular city they'd arrived outside of is certainly sparse compared to the crowds Basil is more accustomed to, and yet still busier than he would have expected. Roh turns them onto a street lined with stands and stalls covered in tarps and blankets. Most of them appear to be in possession of limited resources— tattered boots and coats, old electronics, meager canned goods and other foodstuffs— and all for sale. Something about it all is uncomfortably familiar to Basil. He looks away.

"What are you here for anyway?" It's an easy question.

Roh's steps slow. It's a long minute before he answers in kind, and he avoids Basil's face when he does.

"...This planet is on Sidra's list right now. I'm looking for something to dissuade him, some proof that a little more time is the smartest decision."

Roh looks out at the harried passersby, imagines this spectacle of fear and desperation and misery as a response to the ending of their lives and their entire world, and feels a wave of nausea settle deep in his chest. Basil watches a nearby merchant sell a radio (he thinks) to a grim-faced individual and then sees the two of them very hastily shuffle away from each other and continue about their business. When he looks around, everyone has the same similar haggard, hollow appearance. 

"....How much time you thinking..?" Things appear quite dire to him.

"Enough," is Roh's vastly unhelpful answer.

To himself, for the first time, Basil finds himself wondering if Roh looks at his own world in the same way. Has he been forcefully staying Sidra's hand, convinced a little more time is all that's necessary? Put into the unenviable position to make the decision himself, thinking distantly of all the ills he's seen, the life he and countless others have led, Basil suddenly isn't so certain it's  **mercy** which motivates the god he is accompanying.

"...I dunno much about all this, and I know my, uh… outlook is a shit-ton shorter than yours, but…" Basil stops there for some time, uncertain how to go about articulating his thoughts, or even if he  **should** . Roh doesn't interject, however, and he rather gradually gathers them together. "Just, uh, are you sure that's what you wanna do..?"

The glimpse of what appears to be a child or two lingering in a dirty doorway only strengthens that odd, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

"Just, you know, how many times have you seen the kinda change that makes it worth it?"

Roh stops at a stall, chats briefly with the merchant running it in a language that strikes Basil as very fluid and fast, and comes away with…  _ something  _ on a stick, which he also offers to his companion.

When he does finally respond, he looks and sounds distinctly troubled.

"....Do you know how old this planet is?"

Basil shrugs. "No?"

"Neither do I," Roh says succinctly. "It's been here longer than I have."

" **That** long? Shit—"

That results in another half-crooked smirk in his direction.

"Don't go making me feel  **too** young."

Basil laughs nervously.

"S… sorry, heh."

"This civilization, on the other hand," Roh continues nonchalantly, "Is closer to about a thousand years old. Comparatively, it's just a baby."

More than just comparatively, at least from where Roh's standing.

Basil, meanwhile, seems to be thinking rather hard on something.

"So it's been a thousand years, and this is the result?"

Roh frowns lightly.

"It's had its ups and downs. It's been worse than this before, too. But it  _ always _ bounces back. I need to convince Sidra that this time will be no different."

"What's wrong with… um, everything?"

"The planet’s core has been growing more unstable over the centuries. The soil and water, too, have been gradually losing nutrients and potability over the centuries," Roh answers in a concerning perfunctory manner.

"Oh." That sounds serious.  _ Dire _ , Basil's brain supplies him again. "How many times have you seen that turn around?" The same question as before, rephrased.

Roh hesitates.

"It doesn't matter."

_ Not often, then _ , Basil concludes silently. Instead, he asks, "What's the proof you're looking for? The stuff that'll change Sidra's mind?"

This seems to be a far easier question for Roh to contemplate; the furrowed brow he'd been sporting relaxes visibly.

"Improvement, mostly. Signs of inherent strength. If not that, then unique value. Something that will convince him this place’s absence will be an unrectifiable  _ loss _ , and not just like amputating an infected limb.”

"...maybe in this case, you should let go..?"

Basil isn't sure what response he'd anticipated, but it isn't what he gets.

Roh stops in his tracks, hands balling stiffly into fists at his sides, turning from his mortal companion hastily and starting in an entirely different direction.

"I-I… I can't."

"Can't..?"

“You… you wouldn’t understand. And you shouldn’t anyway— it’s not something mortals are meant to worry about. All of you have more important things to do.”

This Basil takes as a joke, letting out a bark of laughter which doesn’t occur to him as perhaps a bit inappropriate until he notices an injured look or two directed his way by the surrounding residents. It’s enough to drive him just barely closer to Roh as the two of them make their way down a new street.

“You’re a funny little bastard, sometimes,” he starts, giving fervent thanks that his oldest brother isn’t around to hear him  _ literally call a god a bastard _ once he realizes what he’d said. When Roh doesn’t see fit to comment on it, either, he continues, with more trepidation than before, “No way is the shit we all get up to more important than what a god does.”

“Just trust me.”

For better or worse (and most likely the latter, the wolf thinks to himself), Basil finds that in a deep, instinctual part of himself, he does.


End file.
